


Endless

by triste



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 05:03:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triste/pseuds/triste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An endless sea of white with broken bits of blue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endless

Title: Endless  
Author: Triste  
Fandom: Tsubasa Chronicle  
Pairing: Kurogane/Fai  
Rating: PG  
Status: Complete  
Disclaimer: Not mine

~~

The day of his return brings snow, and lots of it. Tiny flakes of frost fall from the swollen sky, blanketing the earth below in stifling silence. The only thing that breaks it is the crunching of the settled snow as he kneels, his movements stiff, and not from cold.

"Welcome home," she says, the words misting like condensation on crystal in the early afternoon air.

"I'm back," he answers, and his voice is paler than his lips, more desolate than the far off landscape.

Black is what she's always associated with him, due to his clothes, his hair, and even his name, but all she sees now is white. It's the colour of his knuckles as he clenches his fists, the colour of the coat that covers him like gauze over a wound, the colour of the snow that clings to his shoulders, enfolding him into winter's embrace.

Days pass by. Both he and the weather remain unchanging.

She watches as he performs his duties in a meticulously mechanical manner.

He preserves his sanity with routine and ritual, flitting through the palace like a ghost, his odd behaviour prompting whispers and wondering among the other residents.

She mourns for the man he used to be, for the warmth he no longer possesses, for the self-enforced solitude that crushes him slowly but surely under its weight.

He meditates in the bleak and brittle gardens, like time has frozen still for him, like he's trapped inside a little piece of eternity.

She never asks.

He never explains.

And then she finds him, alone, shrouded in shadow and secrecy as he cradles the coat he's become so attached to the way he would a lover, white fingers tracing white fabric, combing through his splintered memories.

She catches a fleeting glimpse of the heart-wrenching tenderness on his face before he buries it into his coat, his body hunching in on itself as he trembles, his breathing, from what she can hear of it, erratic and stilted.

The snow continues to fall, as if in sympathy, like tiny drops of iced-over tears, spilling its sorrow throughout the land in an endless sea of white with broken bits of blue; blue like the swirling patterns on his coat, blue like the spider thread veins on his hands.

He quakes and he quivers, his shaky, staccato gasps forcing out a plea, a curse, and, powerless, she leaves, but not before a name can reach her ears, quiet and desperate and choked:

"Fai..."

She closes the door.

He drowns in the darkness.

 

End.


End file.
